The heir neatly folded the paper and set it carefully on the dining table where he’d just finished his breakfast. He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Am I wrong?”
“I doubt you would believe me if I said otherwise,” Jonathan countered. “You have your mind made up about me, and nothing I say will change that.”
He turned back to the window that overlooked the streets of Mayfair, where his brother’s townhouse was located. Jonathan had been back in London for two miserable days, and while he would have normally taken extreme delight to be back in such familiar surroundings, everything was pale and wan, as if the city had drained of color in his absence. Even his usual entertainments had lost their sparkle.
Jonathan knew it was bad when he’d finally left his bachelor lodgings to visit his brother, whom he avoided most of the time. The only thing that would complete his inner torment was if his father—
“What depravity is it that brings you to our doorstep, boy? Money? Legal assistance?”
Jonathan rolled his eyes heavenward on a plea for patience, as he slowly turned to regard his sire. A portly man with graying, dark hair and a firm countenance, he eyed his youngest son with a critical eye.
“Hello, Father,” he said, unable to keep the mocking lilt out of his voice.
“Out with it then,” the Earl of Vellerman returned sharply. “What do you want? I’d like to eat my breakfast in peace.”
Jonathan was careful to school his features into a perfectly neutral expression, so his father didn’t realize how much his words stung. “Not a damn thing.”
This actually brought the earl’s head up. He narrowed his gaze. “I don’t want to play games—”
“I’m not!” Jonathan returned sharply, his words cracking through the air with all the force of a whip. He ground his teeth together. “I know you’ve always viewed me as a careless ne’er-do-well, but if you would actually stop and contemplate the truth now and then, you might find that all the rumors about me aren’t true, and that I’m not as worthless as you like to tell people that I am.”
The earl gasped in indignation. He slammed a fist on the table. “I have no need to tell lies!”
“Really?” Jonathan lifted a brow. “I seem to recall, not so long ago, an entry in the betting books at White’s, written by your own hand, if I would see my end at the hand of a cuckolded husband or my own idiocy.”
Edward’s eyes widened slightly. It was the first time Jonathan had ever known him to show any sort of expression other than disdain. “Father—”
The older man slashed his hand through the air. “I only speak the truth! Why should I not gain from his deplorable actions? He’s been nothing but poison to this family! You know it as well as I.”
“Indeed?” Edward countered. “If I recall correctly, he isn’t the only wastrel in this room with the last name of Castleford.” He tapped a finger on the mahogany table. “Weren’t you the one who was caughtin flagrante delictowith his mistress the night Mother died?”
The earl’s face turned an alarming shade of red, and Jonathan wondered if he might have an apoplexy. “There is nothing wrong with that! Men have certain needs that a wife can’t always fulfill.”
“For seven years?” Edward pointed out.
Their father rose to his feet. “I used to think you were sensible, Edward, but I can seethatboy’s daft imaginings have warped your mind.” He pointed his finger accusingly at Jonathan.
Edward snorted. “You’re only upset because you see yourself in his actions. And it sickens you when you look back at your own life.”
“You knownothing!” the earl thundered. “I will not stand for this insubordination in my own house! Get out! Before I disinherit the lot of you!”
“Gladly.” Edward stood and paused before Jonathan. “Are you coming?”
“I’m right behind you,” Jonathan said with a decided smirk.
As they walked down the steps, Jonathan turned to his brother. “I’ve never known you to stand up to Father like that,” he said quietly.
Edward shrugged as they meandered down the street. “It was time. I’ve always thought father was a hypocrite for condemning you for something he was equally guilty of doing. I guess it just took the right motivation to call him on it.” Edward stopped and turned to face Jonathan fully, his gray-green eyes more serious than he had ever seen them before. “I daresay I owe you an apology for not speaking up in your defense before now.”
Jonathan swallowed over a particularly suspicious lump in his throat. “That means a lot. Thank you.”
“That’s what brothers are for, aren’t they? To stand up against their tyrannical fathers?” Edward clasped Jonathan on the back and offered him one of his rare smiles. “Now how about we get a drink, and I get to know my brother a little better?”
“Sounds ideal,” Jonathan returned with a grin of his own.
***
NEARLY TWO HOURS LATER, sitting in the smoking room at Brook’s, Jonathan sat back with a feeling of contentment — at least in regards to the relationship with his brother. He was surprised to learn that over the years, while he had believed Edward to be the favorite child, he had been just as persecuted in private as Jonathan had been in public. Their father had been a difficult taskmaster who expected perfection from his heir, and when he wasn’t satisfied with the results, he had taken the whip to Edward.
